


A Refuge For Tonight

by MonPetitTresor, ScrollingKingfisher



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Episode s13e18 coda, They're all terrible at communicaion, Will somebody else please clean the library for once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-27 21:59:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14434965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonPetitTresor/pseuds/MonPetitTresor, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScrollingKingfisher/pseuds/ScrollingKingfisher
Summary: The library was a fucking mess. What else was new?In which Sam prays, and Gabriel didn't run nearly as far as they thought he did.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks as always to the discord crew for all the screaming and encouragement, and particularly to MonPetitTresor who can be blamed for some of the dialogue and nearly all of the ideas!! THEREFORE all wailing comments can be directed towards him ;)
> 
> -SK

 

The library was a fucking mess. What else was new?

 

Sam sighed, looking around wearily at the broken bodies sprawled over the furniture. Nobody was going to help him clean it up, that was for sure; Dean was in the depths of the bunker somewhere (he still heard the occasional clatter of more things being broken), and Cas was too deep in his anger at Gabriel, Dean’s less than helpful attitude and the world in general to be of any help. The temptation was there to just say ‘fuck it’ and leave it all. To give in to his exhaustion and barricade himself into his room and just sleep until the world wasn’t slowly rocking on its axis. But messes didn’t sort themselves. And besides, he’d rather be hauling freshly-killed demons than putrid ones.

 

Sam picked up the mop and got to work.

 

While he was scrubbing a particularly stubborn bloodstain out of the floor, he thought about the whirlwind of the last forty eight hours. That girl, the ancient tentacle monster, staggering back to the bunker thinking of having a nice long shower and maybe something to eat before bed. Then having Ketch immediately spring out at them. The rift. Asmodeus. No wonder he was tired.

 

But no matter what else he thought of, Gabriel’s face, bloodied and terrified, kept overlaying itself over everything else. He couldn’t get it out of his mind. Because Sam had taken one look at him, dragged in by Ketch and cowering in the chair, and he had Known.

 

Gabriel was broken. Gabriel was shattered beyond repair, just like he was. For Sam, looking into his splintered gaze had been like looking into a mirror. Which was a part of the reason, Sam admitted to himself, that he had tried so hard to reach him. He had desperately needed Gabriel to pull himself together, to recover and function. Because if an archangel couldn’t do it, then what hope did he have?

 

But then Gabriel _had_ recovered. He’d heard Sam’s words, and his head had risen, his burning gaze meeting Sam’s like every inch was an almost insurmountable effort. He had burnt Asmodeus out, and he had been glorious, and holy, and Sam had felt hope. Because _Gabriel was back_. He might have been broken, but not irreparably. There was hope for the both of them.

 

And then Sam had pushed too hard. And Gabriel had turned his back. And just like that, he was gone.

 

And the more Sam thought about how it had all gone down, the more guilty he felt. He scrubbed the floor harder, his knuckles going raw. What had he been thinking, driving Gabriel away like that? He’d been so selfishly wrapped up in what Gabriel’s return meant for _him_ that he’d missed the tight stress on Gabriel’s face when they’d recounted the insanity of last eight years. How would he have felt, if the first thing everyone did when he was only just recovering from hell was demand he throw himself straight back into the pit again?

 

No wonder Gabriel had run.

 

Finally, Sam was done. He pushed himself back to his feet and wearily looked around. That was as tidy as it was going to get; at least he’d moved the bodies outside. The rest would have to wait until tomorrow. The noises from down the corridor had stopped, so either Dean had found the whisky or he had turned in early. Either way, there was no way Sam was going anywhere near him while he was in that mood.

 

But there was one last thing Sam knew he had to do.

 

He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. He pushed back the building headache and tried to concentrate. It had been a while since the last time, but he needed to do this.

 

“Uh… Gabriel. I don’t know if you’re listening out there… I wouldn’t blame you if you weren’t, but… just hear me out, okay?”

 

The words echoed back at him from the emptiness of the room. Sam took a deep breath, letting it leave his lungs slowly, and trying to force the anxious nerves in his stomach out with it.

 

“I’m sorry for what I said to you earlier. I didn’t explain myself very well. You probably gathered, things haven’t been great for us the last couple years. I was trying to tell you...  When I said I needed you, I just meant I needed you to be _you_ again. I saw you as hope, and I haven’t had that in so long, and…”

 

Sam closed his eyes again. He was getting off track. “Look, I know we overwhelmed you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for pinning all of that on you. We should have given you time, and space, not pressure.” He licked his lips, the nerves returning. “And, I’ve been there. I’ve come back after… after horrible things and had everyone expect me to just bounce right back. And I know that doesn’t happen. I’m not mad that you ran, in fact now I’ve thought about it I’m even sorta glad, because I know you probably need to heal, and you won’t be able to do that here,” He huffed humorlessly, thinking about the way Dean had talked about Gabriel’s grace. No, it was just as well he wasn’t here.

 

“Just... stay safe out there, okay? And if you want to come back, once you’re better, there's a place for you here. Just… look after yourself, Gabriel.”

 

He blinked his eyes open. The room was still empty, just like he had expected. Good, he tried to persuade himself. That was good. Better that Gabriel didn’t get caught up in all their mess, at least for now. He turned, heading down the corridor towards his room. Maybe things would look better in the morning.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Sam didn’t even look up as he walked into his room, zoned out as he swung the door shut behind himself. He turned, letting his forehead thump against the wood. Was it worth walking over to the bed or could he fall asleep right here?

 

It came as a shock when a voice spoke out from right behind him.

 

"Not that I’m the person to judge, but it looks like things didn't go so well out there."

 

Sam whipped around, hand going to the back of his jeans automatically. Gabriel was sitting cross-legged on the bed, still in the rags he’d escaped Asmodeus’ dungeon in. Looking like he’d never left. Sam let out a breath of disbelief, letting his hand drop limply to his side.

 

“You’re still here.”

 

Gabriel’s mouth twitched up in a sarcastic smile. “You know me kiddo, couldn’t stay away from the party.”

 

Sam huffed, his eyes roaming over Gabriel, scrutinising. That clearly wasn’t what was keeping him here. Sam knew him. He wanted to be as far away from the bunker as possible. Sam’s eyes lingered on the bags still under Gabriel’s eyes, the way his shoulders slouched under the thin veneer of confidence. “You’re tired,” he realised.

 

Gabriel sighed, giving up the pretense and flopping backwards onto the bed. “Rumbled. And, seriously, did you see my wings back there? Whoo boy. I haven’t been able to preen the damn things in years, and it shows. Feathers all over the place. Not good for the ol’ aerodynamics. I could barely hop in here with them like that.” His words were flippant, but Sam could hear the worry and exhaustion in every exhalation. Like every second spent talking was wearing down on his shields until they were as sheer and fragile as gossamer.

 

“Hey, are your wings gonna be okay?” Sam couldn’t help looking past Gabriel’s shoulders in concern, as though he might be able to catch sight of ruffled plumage again.

 

“What?” Gabriel waved a hand. “Oh, yeah, they’ll be fine. A few hours of rest, a bit of TLC, they’ll be good to go.” He looked up at Sam, one eye assessing him warily. “Thought you wouldn’t mind if I crashed in here for a while. Especially after your rousing little speech earlier.”  


Sam felt his ears turn pink. So he _had_ heard. “Yeah not- not a problem. Better here than in the library.” Not with Cas being angry still. And Dean being… well, Dean.

 

Gabriel made a small considering noise, his thoughts obviously going along similar lines. "So... since when did you get so scared of your brother?"

  
"W-What?" Sam felt his eyebrows rise in surprise.

  
Gabriel frowned up at the ceiling. "You've stood up to monsters, demons. Hell, kiddo, you stood up to ME. But back there? I saw what went down. Dean raises his voice, slams his fist, and you _flinch_." His eyes darkened a little, and there was an intensity to them that Sam hadn't ever seen there before. One that was born from years of captivity; years of pain. "What the hell did he do to you, kiddo?" There was dark promise under the words.

 

Sam looked away. He couldn’t be under that stare. He knew he’d crack right open if he met Gabriel’s eyes for long enough. “It’s not him. Okay… maybe it is a little bit. But mostly it’s… everything else.”

 

“Well he needs to get his head out his ass and see what he’s doing to you.” Gabriel said grimly. “Does he know he gives you flashbacks when he does that?”

 

Sam couldn’t suppress the flinch. “No,” he admitted, “but it’s more complicated than Dean being a dick, you know that.” Sam had meant to snap, but the words just came out defeated. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, he was ready to drop. He rubbed a hand over his forehead, trying to alleviate the growing ache. Was he swaying or was it the room? God, he needed to lie down. “It’s not him. It’s the whole world.”

 

“Shut up. I can’t argue with you while you look like you’re about to kick the bucket. Get on the bed before you fall over.” Gabriel thumped the bed next to himself with the flat of his hand.

 

Sam huffed in loopy amusement, staggering over and sagging down onto the mattress. To think that barely ten hours ago he’d been the one dragging Gabriel onto the bed. How the tables had turned.

 

Gabriel was looking up at him with one eyebrow raised in incredulous concern. “You’re looking like someone’s scrambled your eggs there, kiddo. Are you sure you’re okay?”

 

Sam shrugged, an uncoordinated roll of his shoulders. “‘M just tired.” Either that or all those knocks to the head recently were finally adding up…

 

Gabriel grunted, still observing him too closely for his liking. “What happened to you, Sam?”

 

Sam made a questioning noise. Gabriel’s eyes were too close, too bright. If he got any closer Sam might fall right in.

 

“You told me earlier. You said it yourself, you wanted to get out of this life. When did that dream die, kiddo? When did you give in and decide this was all there was?”

 

That sobered him up a little. “I grew up.”

 

Gabriel stared at him sadly. “Wow. The hunter life’s finally managed to Stockholm you, huh?”

 

Sam just looked at him, blinking. Gabriel kept going. “You and Dean, you’re stuck in this horrible cycle where you think you have to sacrifice yourselves every year or two.” He laughed, an unhappy sound. “And the worst part is? I can’t even get mad at you for asking me for help, because from your perspective you’re not being selfish! You don’t have a selfish bone in your body! Your life has warped your perceptions of ‘normal’ so far off track, you can’t even see it anymore!” He pushed himself upright again, looking Sam right in the eye. “When you demand that others try to do what you do, Sam, you gotta realise, your lifestyle is killing you! And it’ll kill everyone else too!”

 

Sam recoiled a little. Gabriel sighed, leaning back and pushing a hand through his hair. “No person should have to give what you’ve given. You boys need help. But I can’t give you what you asked for, and I think you know that.”

 

Sam knew. He could still see the broken bits of Gabriel, the sharp edges poking through. He was ashamed that he had forgotten what that felt like, even for a second. “I know. I’m sorry. We just get so caught up sometimes. I didn’t mean to sound so...”

 

“Demanding?” Gabriel suggested.

 

The breath left Sam’s lungs in a long sigh. He closed his eyes. “Yeah.”

 

“I know. I know you didn’t.” Gabriel sounded as tired as Sam felt. “You _do_ need hope, Sam. You _deserve_ hope. But I can’t give that to you. Not like this...” his voice trailed off into silence.

 

Sam blinked up at the ceiling. Wait, when did he lie down?

 

“Jesus, kid, when did you last sleep? Here, get under the covers. You’re making me feel tired just watching you.”

 

Sam shuffled awkwardly until his shoes were off and he was fully on the bed, the blankets wrapped around him. Gabriel stretched out next to him with his hands behind his head and his ankles crossed. The thought that he was lying in bed with the being he’d once sworn he’d hunt to the ends of the earth was suddenly, inexplicably hilarious. A little chuckle burst out before he could stop it.

 

“Oh yeah, you’re a real comedian, Winchester. You’ve finally caught up with me, hilarious.” Gabriel was grinning, a bemused smile perched on his face like it was surprised to be there.

 

Sam didn’t even care that Gabriel was reading his mind. He turned his head on the bed to look at him. Gabriel was gazing straight at him, head cocked just like Cas. There was none of the grace-glow left in his eyes, leaving them caramel-brown. Almost human.

 

It struck Sam again with blinding clarity just how similar they were. It wasn't the first time he had noticed, but there was something about his exhaustion that made everything suddenly obvious, the usually turbulent waters of his thoughts clear. Cutting all his arguments down to motivations that he hadn’t even known he was hiding from himself. Sam’s mouth was open, the garbled words out before he’d even thought about it.

 

“I didn’t want you on the team just because you could help us, you know. It wasn’t your grace or… or the things we could use it for that was giving me hope, it was you being… alive. And being _you_ again. You don’t need to be anything you're not to give me hope, Gabe. I missed you.”

 

Sam knew fuzzily that he’d probably be embarrassed by admitting to that when he could think straight again. But he was too tired to care.

 

Gabriel’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at the last three words, his shocked silence filling the room. “I... I'm not…" His mouth opened and closed several times before he spoke again. "You know what? Let’s revisit this conversation some time when your pupils aren’t different sizes. Give me a week to get back on my feet, then come find me. Then we can talk, alright?”

 

Sam nodded. The room was dimming at the corners. “But you’ll stay for tonight, right?”

 

“Just for tonight. Go to sleep, Sam.”

 

.o0o.

 

Sam slept for fourteen hours straight.

 

When he woke the next morning, the bed was cold. He pulled himself upright and looked down at the rumpled sheets, disappointed even though he had known Gabriel wouldn’t stay.

 

But as he was getting up, he saw something. A disturbance in the corner of his eye.

 

There, balanced very deliberately on the nightstand, was a patch of space he couldn’t quite focus on. His gaze slid off it, like his mind couldn’t quite absorb the sharp slivers of colour and the way it warped the world at the edges. But if he looked at it sideways, he could just about make out the shape of a feather, battered and bent, but whole. And when he carefully reached out, he could touch it, feel it, cool and buzzing and alive under his fingertips.  

 

He picked it up, twirling the ethereal shaft between his fingers, and smiled. It was a promise.

 

Gabriel would be back.

 

 

 


End file.
